The Island of Hope

by Andrei Livadny

  Simeon had no idea of what the discovery would mean to him until he, by chance, set eyes on a pale spot of light. He looked closely at it, and all of a sudden it became clear to his dulled brain that he had been staring for several seconds at a wall where, near a half-opened hatch, dimly shone a rough luminous inscription:

  END OF PRESSURIZED PREMISES

  Pressurized premises! Simeon knew well what it was supposed to mean, and now it was for him like a miracle. Convulsively inhaling, he broke into a run.

  There was no air beyond the hatch – only an airlock raked with fire with a robot body smashed to bits and two totally burnt corpses inside. Simeon couldn't believe his hopes had been dashed. Clearing the obstacle, he rushed on, losing control of his actions. Having run through a long enfilade of dilapidated halls bearing multiple traces of a violent fight between people and machines, he unexpectedly found himself at the dead end of the corridor.

  5.

  Vivifying air, thick and fresh, was pouring into his chest torn by a sharp spasmodic pain.

  Simeon opened his eyes. The airlock was full of respiratory mixture, the internal hatch wide open, a fragment of corridor brightly lit could be seen through it. The last thing kept by his memory was a feeling of surprise when the dead end transformed itself into an open hatch. He also remembered a suffocation spasm and how his fingers were tearing at the helmet locks at the very instant when the external hatch returned to its normal position.

  For some time he had simply lain on the floor, enjoying the taste of the air, sweetish because of the abundance of oxygen. Strength was gradually returning to him, accompanied by anxiety which grew intolerable a minute later. After a few sobs, he made himself get up and, picking up his weapon, stepped into the dazzling radiance of the corridor.

  The passage proved to be short, a dozen feet at most. Its walls and arching ceiling were glowing softly. At the opposite end, he saw another open hatch. Simeon stole toward it and, weak with nervousness, looked into the next room.

  His worst conjectures came true. He recoiled from the hatch, but was left with no other way. The oxygen bottle was empty, and he had to replace it to go out of here. Bracing himself, Simeon peered out of the hatch again.

  From the place where he was now standing, he could see the rest of the corridor dividing a huge room in two halves; its walls had become transparent, allowing him to clearly see machines behind them. They were functioning. Complex surges of light flashed across electronic units; a couple of screens gleamed, mechanical devices were busy executing a predetermined series of operations with monotonous regularity.

  Clutching the MG's handle in his white-knuckled fingers, Simeon stepped into the hatch and stopped, immobilized by some mystical horror. A few steps more, and he found himself face to face with a great number of machines which had been for him a synonym of the word death ever since he'd been born.

  He barely stopped himself from shooting – to disturb this monster would have been crazy – and rushed forward, dashing along the corridor until he reached the next room.

  It was quiet and flooded with light. Air was pouring in from some invisible sources. Hot with excitement, Simeon welcomed its cool flow. Along the walls of the rectangular hall there were tall racks stacked high with rows of books and disks of memory crystals. A strange machine with several screens towered in the middle; two seats were placed nearby. Simeon stole past the inactive machine and froze in the doorway of yet another hall, feeling that he was on the brink of a nervous breakdown. It was for the first time in his life that he found himself in such an eerie and mysterious place.

  The room differed dramatically from the two previous ones. Never before had he seen such an ordered collection of all kinds of things: a table, some soft chairs, a long couch, tall bookcases with transparent doors – all these didn't seem to be out of place here. On the contrary, they made the room look warm and cozy. But that was only a fleeting feeling which disappeared, crushed by his survival instincts; Simeon was still in a state of feverish excitement, and his mind was nothing else but a continuation of the weapon he was squeezing in his hand.

  While he was examining the perimeter of the walls and the strange images in dark frames hanging on them, he sensed a motion in the middle of the room.

  He swiftly turned round, simultaneously stepping back and raising his MG, but his finger froze on the trigger.

  A strange being, woven of light, smile and — and fright, stood by the low couch. At a glance, Simeon knew that he was looking at a human being.

  The discovery shocked him deep inside. Completely stunned, he studied the small figure, blond curly hair dropping to its shoulders and frightened blue eyes. A thin nose with trembling nostrils and a mouth flashing a helpless smile made the face even more perfect. The creature was staring into the black eye of the barrel, as frozen as he was himself.

  "Who are you?" the voice- husky with emotion broke the thick silence.

  "I'm Simeon," he answered equally hoarsely after a pause, feeling unsure of his answer.

  Neither of them had recovered from the shock yet, and they were only able to stand and look each other; Simeon watchful, the creature frightened and amazed.

  "My name is Yanna." She took an uncertain step towards Simeon and, all of a sudden, stretched out her little hand with pale trembling fingers.

  His heart clenched. He knew this gesture very well, as that's how he used to greet his father. To accept it would have meant to completely rely upon a person, to become unarmed and helpless. But this was a human standing in front of him! Yanna's face was neither malicious nor menacing. Being of his height, she had an open and friendly manner, offering her hand.

  Slowly he lowered the gun. He pulled off his glove and cautiously touched her hand. Yanna flinched, then squeezed his palm.

  The chaos of steel labyrinths shrank back. There was another human being in this world, and Simeon felt her hand's warmth.

  Yanna remained still. Then she looked up. She must have noticed the change in him as she asked, "What's the matter? Why are you crying?"

  If he could answer the question. Simeon was only a boy of twelve deprived of his father and lost among the ruins of ancient spaceships. He had to break down some time or other, and now it had happened. His legs gave; he collapsed in a heap on the floor. Tears, hot and bitter, streamed down his cheeks. Frightened, Yanna released his hand; he was sobbing, realizing how much time he had spent without sleep, without a meal, realizing the importance of this human warmth that he'd believed he'd lost forever.

  Tears were hot on his face but he wasn't ashamed of them; on the contrary, he felt an incredible relief, believing wholeheartedly in Yanna's existence.

  A warm palm softly touched his cheek. Simeon opened his eyes, and she pulled back her hand, unsure whether to ask him another question. Something in her appearance put Simeon on his guard. "Why don’t you have a weapon?" he blurted out.

  "A weapon?" Yanna repeated. A surprised smile flitted across her face. "What would I want with it? Don't you know that women don't carry arms?"

  Simeon thought he'd heard it wrong. "A woman?" his eyes lit up with joy. "So, you are my Mom, then?"

  Yanna froze. She must have finally worked out the meaning of his words as she shook her head and said, "No, I cannot be your Mother. I am a woman. A girl, rather, but you must be older than I am. How old are you?"

  "Twelve," he replied mechanically, unable to resist disappointment. Father had always said that his mother was a woman. He looked up at her, "Are there any other women apart from Mom?"

  "I don't know." Yanna answered, puzzled. The idea of parenthood was devoid of any meaning for her. Simeon's arrival had bewildered the ten-year-old girl who had long ago come to the conclusion that people existed only in books and on memory crystals, even though Andor didn't agree with her and told her stories about forty-seven worlds colonized by men.

  "Have you ever seen people?" she blurted out.

  A pained expression crossed the boy's gaunt face. "I u
sed to have a father," he said in a low voice.

  Yanna felt a pang of pity. She'd hurt him, though no one had taught the girl to recognize such things. Overcoming timidity, she sat down beside him.

  "Are you hungry?" she asked the first question that crossed her mind.

  "Eh?" Simeon hadn't yet recovered from the shock and didn't catch what she said while thinking of his father.

  "Are you... hungry?" Yanna repeated, unsure.

  Seeing her so timid, Simeon put his hand into his pocket. He took out the burst tin of canned food – his sole nutrition reserve for the moment – and held it out to Yanna. "Take this."

  The girl cautiously took the deformed tin, its sides still caked with some dark substance. She turned it round in her hands, sniffed it and pulled a face, unable to hide her surprise. "You really eat that?"

  She seemed stunned, ready to burst into tears or to burst out laughing.

  Simeon glanced at her gloomily and nodded. He found absolutely nothing amusing or strange therein. She attempted to smile. "Come with me, I'll make something for you."

  He didn't object. The hunger pangs had already subsided; the cramps in his stomach weren't so bad anymore. Still, the mention of food made him feel weak.

  Yanna took him by the hand and guided him to the exit. Simeon's whole being focused on the warm and slightly damp palm of the girl. He had never thought that it felt so good to sense life.

  A short corridor led them to a landing with five closed hatches in its walls. An air generator rustled overhead, releasing a cool, life-bearing jet of oxygen.

  The room they entered was the smallest of all, but still far more spacious than his shack. It could comfortably seat, say, five persons.

  Simeon sat down in a cozy armchair by an oval table and looked round with curiosity. Apart from the familiar shape of a nuclear thermostat, he noticed a number of other devices which remained alien to him.

  In a few practiced motions, Simeon unzipped his sealed light suit and stepped out of it, leaving it in a heap on the floor. He watched the girl manipulate a shiny machine. Two cylinders were connected by means of a set of hoses to a power generator and a transparent sphere on the base of which he read:

  INLET CHAMBER OF FOOD PRODUCTS SYNTHESIZER

  OPERATE ONLY WHEN SHELL CLOSED!

  Finally the machine's bowels began to murmur. Simeon watched anxiously as lights flashed on the control console, but Yanna paid no attention to them. She was busy pressing buttons, putting out plates, cutting something, all the while furtively glancing at him until he felt dizzy with the abundance of all kinds of food and the unusual odors floating in the room.

  Yanna sat down to table and took a fork. She barely touched her food while Simeon was helping himself. She couldn't take her eyes off his gaunt face. He was taller and evidently stronger than herself. His skin had a strange bronze hue. Yanna didn't know this was common space tan.

  “Where are you from?” she couldn't help asking.

  Simeon’s hand stopped in mid-air. Where are you from, she'd said. He realized he couldn't answer her question.

  Yanna brushed off a strand of blond hair and said, “You came in through the main airlock. But I don’t know what’s behind it. I’ve never left this place.”

  Simeon nearly dropped his fork.

  “You know... I cannot.” Yanna struggled to find the right words. “I’m glad you’ve come.”

  Tears flowed down her cheeks, but she was smiling at the same time.

  ...

  Those who are happy never notice time go by. Neither he nor she could name what was going on in their souls. Time had stopped. They enjoyed the very possibility of seeing and speaking to each other which was already a source of incredible joy for both after the loneliness they had experienced, even though the girl hadn’t known one hundredth of the hardships that comprised his life. They would speak, sometimes struggling to understand each other, as though they were two beings from different worlds.

  Any other time Simeon would have given it some thought, but now he felt as if the stern world of the steel sphere was distancing, rapidly becoming unreal.

  Yanna rose from the table and began removing the plates when the hatch rustled open behind the boy's back.

  He felt electrocuted. Simeon jumped to his feet, swinging round, and froze. An icy horror filled his heart.

  A robot stood in the doorway.

  It resembled a man so much it sent shivers down your spine, but the boy could not be fooled by the likeness – this was a machine.

  He reached for his gun but his fingers closed around thin air. He'd left his weapon in the room where he'd seen Yanna first. Thousands of thoughts flashed through his mind and disappeared, soaked up by his brain, leaving only one,

  'They got me. The weapon! I left it behind. So stupid. This is death. I must kill. KILL!'

  "Morning, Andor!" Yanna's voice cut through his thoughts. She continued to remove dishes.

  "Morning, Yanna," the robot answered in a low pleasant voice. His lips fashioned of metal and plastic moved in unison with his words. He turned to the boy. "Morning, sir! May I ask your na-"

  Simeon lunged onto him.

  He vaulted, his feet kicking the lifeless face. The machine tumbled to the floor. He punched the steel breast with such force that he his knuckles exploded with pain. His other hand closed around whatever passed for the robot's throat, trying to strangle him.

  "Run!" he shouted desperately, hoping that Yanna would understand his plan and escape while he was pinning the robot to the floor.

  The girl didn't move. The momentary fright in her face gave way to surprise.

  "What are you doing?" she demanded. "Release Andor, now!"

  The lying robot struggled a few times as if checking the strength of his opponent, then jumped to his feet.

  Simeon was thrown into a corner, but so gently and accurately that he wasn't hurt. Horrified, he squeezed his eyes shut, shrinking into the wall. He was ready to die.

  Instead of a gunshot, he heard the same voice rumbling over his head. "Sir, may I inquire about the reason for your discontent?"

  Simeon forced his eyes open. The robot was kneeling beside him.

  "I hope you didn't hurt yourself?" he asked.

  Simeon heard a sob behind as Yanna couldn't take the strain.

  Simeon was staring at the android kneeling beside him. He couldn't believe it. The Universe had collapsed. He had just struck a robot, but the latter hadn't killed him in return! This was too illogical — beyond his comprehension. Himself, he'd learnt to walk and to shoot at the same time.

  "Simeon!" Yanna's voice broke, her breathing uneven. "Andor won't hurt you. Trust me." She walked over to the android and took him by the hand. "Look, he isn't scary. Andor is my teacher. He used to feed me when I was a baby. He told me about people."

  That was apparently too much for her. Yanna burst into tears.

  Simeon would have loved to believe her, but he couldn't help feeling the way he did. A robot was a robot. Standing next to one scared the hell out of him. Simeon glanced over the robot's chromium-plated body but saw no sign of a weapon. It looked like Yanna was telling the truth. The thought puzzled him. An unarmed robot! This glaring contradiction with all his life experience confused him. It was so absurd that he almost burst out laughing.

  "I can't harm a human," the flat voice broke the silence, "even if you ordered me to do so, Sir."

  Andor rose and demonstratively stepped aside.

  Simeon felt he was going mad. He didn't lose sight of the android for a second. He was shaking. There was hell in his heart.

  "What is sir?" he asked, scrambling back to his feet, just to say something.

  "It's a polite form of addressing human males," Andor quietly explained. "A woman is addressed lady."

  Simeon felt sorry for himself. Why had this creature had to come and stand between them? "I'm off," he said coldly, picking up his suit.

  Yanna startled as if he'd struck her. "But why?" she dema
nded. "You don't believe me, do you?"

  "I don't know," he turned round and went out.

  Having returned to the central room, he picked up his MG and squeezed its cold plastic hard.

  Yanna walked in.

  "I'm short of oxygen," Simeon said gloomily, avoiding looking at the android that lurked in the doorway. It was obvious Yanna liked this machine for some reason, and now, holding a weapon, he was afraid of upsetting her even more by shooting the robot down.

  "Come here," Yanna called in a low voice.

  There were four other doors leading out of the airlock, and the girl opened one of them. Simon saw tall racks piled with sealed containers. Simeon followed her and froze, rooted to the floor.

  Talk about Aladdin's cave.

  Fascinated, he stared at the neat stacks of spacesuits, sorted by size. A unified model, used by Earth commandos. Until now he had only heard his father speak about it.

  "Are they in working order?" he asked, his voice trembling.

  Yanna raised a surprised eyebrow. She couldn’t understand his emotion: the girl hadn’t had to struggle for survival, she had never choked to near death because of lack of oxygen, had never turned blind because of jammed light filters; she hadn't had to patch a spacesuit nor been frozen to near death because of a failed thermostat.

  “Sure. Everything's in good working order here,” she answered. Yanna had never entered the storeroom before, it was Andor's job, but she trusted him. She glanced at Simeon and added, “You can take all you need.”

  He couldn't resist the temptation. Then again, what temptation? His spacesuit was bursting at the seams. At the time, Father and himself had spent ages looking for the right size but never found it. How many times had Andrei dreamed of a spacesuit equipped with a converter for his son! Simeon didn’t know about it, but he remembered his dad explaining to him patiently time and time again, the principle of the converter's work as he described the equipment.